Drunken Harry
by Laurie Kay
Summary: Harry has a bit too much Firewhiskey one night, and stumbles out of the wrong grate and back into Ginny Weasley's life.  Why has Ginny decided to disown the Weasley's and live a muggle life?  And is someone after Harry's life again?
1. Chapter 1

Harry's dull green eyes glazed over as he stared at the amber liquid swirling around his shot glass. He didn't particularly enjoy the taste of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey; actually, he didn't like it at all. However, Harry found that at the end of a long day, when he was, more often than not, exhausted and discouraged, the burning sensation of the Firewhiskey draining down his throat almost numbed everything away.

Whoever Ogden was, Harry worshiped him for inventing Firewhiskey.

"Alright, Harry? Can I get you some tea to wash down the Ogden's?"

"No, no, I'm fine, Tom…"

"Well then, here. Take some floo powder, on the house. The last thing we want you doing is splicing yourself apparating under the influence." The barkeep of The Leaky Cauldron handed Harry a tiny, disposable container, big enough to sit in the palm of one's hand, filled with a sparkling green dust.

"Ah, let me give you a sickle, or something for this…"

"I insist," Tom said firmly, closing Harry's hand around the floo powder. "You're a regular customer here, as well as a friend, Mr. Potter. I can't have you apparating when you've near emptied a bottle of Firewhiskey by yourself."

Harry smiled and looked down at his emptied shot glass. He wasn't so drunk that he couldn't remember the number of times Tom had give him floo powder on the house. "Thanks, Tom."

He gave a curt nod to the barkeep and, gathered his cloak. He then stepped over to the roaring fireplace and threw the container of green powder in. The flames grew tall and turned emerald green before Harry stepped in. "Av'lon manor," he slurred out quickly. It took him about a second for the sound of his own slurred voice to reach his ears, and about another two seconds for him to curse to himself and realize he probably hadn't said the name of his house clearly at all, and in fact, he was probably headed to the other side of the country. By the time his intoxicated brain had processed all of this information he stumbled out and fell forward into a darkened room.

Harry was lying face down on a plush carpet. It was actually really comfortable, and he was almost about to succumb to the rather nice darkness that was enveloping him when a candle at the other end of the room was suddenly lit.

"Oh Merlin, who're you? I thought the landlord fixed my damned wards, and now look what's been floo'd into my apartment!"

Harry momentarily lifted his head from the very comfortable carpet to see who he had intruded upon at one o'clock in the morning. He caught a bleary glimpse of a tiny woman wearing what looked like a tea cozy over her straight red hair, and an emerald nightgown.

"Well, are you going to say something? An apology would be mildly acceptable, although I'm expecting much more for you being drunk and flooing into my bedroom in the middle of the night." 

Her voice was absolutely _grating_ on Harry's ears. "D'you mind…not…screeching like you are? I'm…trying rather…hard to…not vomit on your floor right now…"

She screeched at the thought, consequently causing Harry to do the unspeakable: vomit on the luscious red hearthrug of a complete stranger, who also happened to be a screaming banshee. Too bad for the rug; He was actually becoming rather fond of it.

"Oh for Chris' sake…_scourgify!_" She walked over and kicked his shoulder with a wooly foot. "Would you move so I don't burn a hole through your head?" Harry obligingly rolled off the carpet and onto his back, onto the cold hardwood floor. The cold floor felt good against his cheek, so he rested there for a moment and nearly closed his eyes again until he heard the banshee screeching into his right ear again. 

"Would you get up and leave already? I actually want to get back to sleep, and I'm not harbouring a drunkard for the night!"

"Yes…yes, right…"

Harry squeezed his eyes tightly shut, and then opened them slowly. As he stood up, his eyes seemed to perceive things in a sort of slow motion, but his ears were hearing everything as it was happening. It was a very odd sensation.

The banshee stood tapping a slippered foot, wand at ready.

"Well, come on, move it along." She was very impatient.

"I'm going, I am…Yes…I am…"

She stopped tapping her foot for a second, and Harry's headache was glad. "What's your name?" she asked suddenly.

"Why do you want to know?" Harry, who was rubbing his eyes in hope that they would start working a bit faster, looked up at the wavering image of the tiny red haired woman. She almost looked like someone he recognized…but he dismissed this thought as the Firewhiskey playing with his head again. Firewhiskey really messes up your vision, Harry thought to himself. The thought that he had finally drunken himself blind crossed his mind.

"Well, in case the vomit stains don't disappear completely, I need to know who to bill for the new rug. I sure as hell am not paying for your vomit stains."

Harry blinked and then shook his head, which actually didn't help to clear it at all. "Potter…I'm Harry Potter."

The woman froze. She seemed almost…afraid? Harry couldn't tell. "What…what did you say your name was again?" 

"Potter…Look, I'll buy you a new rug, its fine…Are you alright?"

The woman had gone extremely quiet, which made Harry slightly nervous, but only slightly since he was too busy dealing with the repercussions of drunkenness at the moment. She backed up, and then sat down hard on her bed.

Harry hadn't ever really gotten a reaction like that when he revealed that he was _the_ Harry Potter; Sure, he'd gotten large, middle aged women fawning over him and shaking his hand, and old men taking their hats off to him, and actually, most strangers treated him with the sort of reverence only received by honoured celebrities. But never had he reduced someone to trembling so much they had to sit down (except for Quirrell…but that had been ages ago, and he had been a basket case before he'd met Harry). Not knowing what to do, Harry simply stood there, surprised and bewildered. Then he realized he should probably find out if she was ok. 

"Er…s'everything alright? You feeling…ill, or something?" 

"No…no, just fine…" 

"Are you sure? What'd you say your name was again?"

She snapped her head up at him when he said this, and then she pulled herself from the bed, saying, "Alright, I think you've overstayed your welcome. Time to go, Harry."

A bit surprised by her sudden forcefulness, Harry let himself be propelled into the hallway and toward the front door by the tiny woman whom he was easily a head taller than, but he stopped moving when he caught sight of something he very much hadn't expected to see.

What had caught his attention was the multitude of bright red hair in the picture, and the waving hands. When he stopped to attempt a good look at the photo hanging above a table in the cramped front hall, the expression on the woman's face was nothing less than horrified. Harry, however, noticed none of this, because his brain was far too befuddled and busy trying to explain the significance of this picture hanging in the hallway of this woman's apartment.

Was that a picture of the Weasleys? And was that the Burrow? What in the world would a picture of all nine happy Weasleys, standing in front of the Burrow being doing in this woman's apartment?

The last marble finally fell into place in Harry's brain.

"Ohmigod." He turned stopped in the middle of the hallway, stunned with this revelation. "What the bloody hell..."

Harry turned around and looked on Ginny Weasley with new eyes. It had been over six years since the last time he'd seen her, nearly that long since anyone had seen her really, and longer since they'd spoken. In fact, the last time Harry had seen Ginny had been at Charlie's funeral…a memory on which Harry did not like to dwell.

"Ginny? Good lord. I prob'ly shouldn't have drank so much tonight…It's you, isn' it?" Harry rubbed his eyes a bit more, hoping it'd help his failing eyesight. It didn't, and his vision was even blurrier.

The blur of colour that was Ginny Weasley standing in front of him replied. "Well, yes, it's me." There was a moment of silence where neither knew what to say, until she offhandedly remarked, "You do look rather different without your glasses."

Harry paused for a moment, and then he felt his face, finally noting why things were a bit blurrier than usual, even drunk. He had apparently lost his glasses somewhere in the fall out of the fireplace.

"You know, I usually do wear glasses still…" He turned back toward the fireplace, where had had gracefully stumbled from, crashing into her apartment. "I do think I must've lost them falling out of your fireplace…"

"Oh, right. Let me find them for you…" Ginny left Harry in her front hall, frantically trying to devise a way for her to make him leave, and leave her alone. She couldn't face him, not now, not ever. Not after…oh, what a terrible coincidence, she cried to herself.

She located the glasses underneath the desk beside the hearthrug. They were new since she'd last seen him, but still the same round, black rimmed style. She smiled, thinking that some things would never change.

As she stood, there came a great loud THUMP from the front hall. Walking quickly back to where she had left Harry, Ginny beheld a grand sight upon returning to the front door. Harry Potter, the Great Harry Potter, had passed out, drunk, on her hallway floor. Pulling a blanket out of the closet beside her, she threw it over him.

Ginny was about to go back to bed, but she stopped. Glancing back at the sleeping Harry, she almost forgot everything that had happened. Almost.

Some things never change, though.

**xxxxx**

Harry awoke much later to a faint light streaming through a partially draped window and a blinding hangover smashing his skull to bits. He moaned and rolled over, wondering, firstly, where in the hell he was, and secondly why did his back hurt so much?

Sitting up slowly, Harry removed the blanket from around his shoulders, wondering where that had come from. He found his glasses placed on the floor next to his head, and he replaced them on his face. God, hardwood floors are a bitch to sleep on, he thought to himself. Where was he again?

The door opened and shut quickly behind his head. He whirled around (but immediately regretted it as both his back and head suddenly shot with pain) and beheld a woman of about twenty-eight years old. Her rich, copper hair was windswept, and had a natural wave in it, which was pulled back into a French twist with an ornate barrette. A white silk camisole and a cropped black blazer, along with a tight black pencil skirt made her look like the models Harry had only glimpsed on the television as a young boy. And may God have mercy on my soul, he thought as he looked down her creamy coloured legs, attached to black stilettos.

"I imagined you'd be throwing up the rest of your stomach contents right about now. I suppose I was wrong."

This suddenly brought back the wavering memories of last night's excitement to Harry. He groaned inwardly, thinking of what she must think of him. He didn't suspect that he'd made a very good impression, for only seeing Ginny Weasley once in the last six years.

"Well, the thought did cross my mind, but after the screaming fit you had last night, I thought better of it," Harry said, cracking a half-hearted smile up at the red-headed woman.

"You did deserve it, you know. I liked that rug."

"Yes, I agree, I expect I did deserve it…"

There was then a very awkward moment of silence while both wracked their brains for something to lighten the mood, and the fact that Harry was at the moment sitting on the floor of Ginny's front hallway.

"Well, I suppose you'll be wanting breakfast. If my mother taught me anything, it's to feed guests…even if they do show up at your house in the middle of the night. And if memory serves correctly, you did that more than once back in the day…" Harry almost saw a small smile across Ginny's face as she picked her way over his legs, sprawled across her hallway.

"Well, they really were quite extreme circumstances, most of the time…"

"Flying cars are quite extreme…"

"Well, I agree. They quite are." Harry picked himself up, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders, and following her through a doorway on the left to a cramped little kitchen that looked as though it doubly served as an office. The small kitchen table that was shoved into the corner had files, books, and loose papers stacked waist-high, and Ginny had to spend a moment rearranging before she could put down the large coffee cup she had been holding.

Harry gave a look at it, and she turned to him shrugging. "Starbucks…it's mostly an American muggle thing…picked it up when I lived in New York a couple years back. The coffee just grows on you, I suppose."

She walked to the refrigerator and began rummaging through it. "Wait a moment," Harry said, sitting down gingerly in a wooden kitchen chair. "When did you live in New York?"

Still not looking at him, she responded carefully. "Oh you know, I hit my mid-twenty-something and decided I needed to do something adventurous. Figured New York was as good as any place to find adventure. I mean, why wait and see if the experiences find you? None of us live forever." Here she paused for a split second, and Harry knew that the deaths of her brothers, Charlie, and a longer time ago, Fred, had crossed her mind. "At any rate, it was a good experience."

"Right…" Harry replied, still trying to figure out everything in his mind. So how had he ended up here? And what in the world had Ginny been doing for the past six years? As far as he knew, the times that she floo powdered her mother had grown fewer and farther between in the years since she had moved out of the Burrow, until she really stopped connection with the Weasleys altogether, save an owl on holidays and such. It had really broken Mrs. Weasley's heart that her only daughter had drifted so far away, although she never really mentioned it.

Looking up, he saw that Ginny had a frying pan heated, and was cracking eggs one by one into it. "So, how in the world did you end up falling into my bedroom last night?"

"You tell me," Harry replied, rubbing his face. "One minute, the Leaky Cauldron, next minute your carpet. I expect Firewhiskey causes one to slur their words a bit."

"A lot, apparently." She continued to silently cook the eggs. "I suppose you'll want some hot water for tea. I'll start the kettle." Continuing to cook the eggs, and Harry watched as she pulled her wand out of her pocket and waved it behind her. Immediately, a kettle flew itself under the tap, filled itself, and placed itself on the hot back burner of the stove.

Breakfast was a quiet affair, by which meaning Harry and Ginny didn't take breaks in putting either food or drink into their mouths, so they wouldn't be required to make polite, strained conversation. But when the plates were empty, and tea cups provided no refuge, Harry had a couple unanswered questions, while he and Ginny were together.

"Er, Ginny…So what have you been up to these past few years?"

Attempting to drain a last drop of coffee from her Starbucks cup, Ginny paused for a moment. "Well, you know I went to New York for a couple years…"

"Does your mother know that?"

"Well, you know, it's been busy. I mentioned it in an owl. And anyway, what business is it of yours, really?"

"Well, I do consider Molly as somewhat of a…a part of my family, you know. Do you even know what it's done to her not being able to see you for so long? Do you have any idea how long it's been since you visited the Burrow? Six years. I asked Molly if you ever visited, and she said that you used to floo her once in a while, but now it's only the occasional owl. Ron doesn't even know what you look like anymore—"

"Would you _back off? _I don't know where you get off with this self-righteousness. Who do you think you are, dropping into my home, into my life so unexpectedly in the middle of the night, suddenly demanding these answers out of me?"

"Calm down, would you? I'm just asking where you've been. You've just about dropped off the face of the Earth, you could've disappeared and no one would have noticed for all you've been around—"

Ginny stood up quickly, and her wooden chair knocked backward and clattered on the floor. "Get out. You're not a part of my life anymore, so I don't see what right you have asking me those questions. Just leave!"

"Gladly," Harry spat back at her, genuinely angry that she could be that selfish. Who did she think she was?

He pushed his chair back and walked out the front door, slamming it behind him. Ginny stood there a moment, fuming, and reeling, just going over what had just happened. 

Somehow, Harry Potter had just fallen back into Ginny Weasley's life.

**xxxxx**

Still fuming, Harry walked out the front of the building. From the looks of it, Ginny was living in a tiny London flat…called Havlon Heights, which sounds almost like Avalon Manor…somewhat (at least he wasn't _so_ far off). He didn't know London so well as to know exactly where he was, but he had an idea. To think of how close that girl was living to Harry the entire time…Well, not girl, woman now. He had seen enough of that. The simple fact of it was that Ginny Weasley had grown up. A _lot. _But why in the world had she alienated herself from her family like that?

He reflected upon it as he walked away from Havlon Heights. Well…the relationship between he and Ginny had fallen apart by the time Harry turned twenty. Just a few years after Voldermort's fall. He couldn't even remember what half the disagreements they'd had were about, but he remembered the heated rows they'd had. He especially remembered the row they'd had before they stopped talking…

"_Where were you last night? I couldn't find you at home, or your flat or anywhere."_

"_I told you, we went out after training…you know, its hard stuff, this auror training. I didn't expect it to be so draining."_

"_Oh, right…"_

"_And you know, Alicia invited me out for a drink, and I think I really needed to let off some steam…"_

"_Alicia? You've never…"_

"_You know Alicia Spinnet? She was a couple years ahead of you, but yeah, she's training with me—"_

"Do_ you even realize what yesterday was while you were off letting off some steam? It was that dinner? You know the one we've been planning for a month?"_

"_Oh Ginny—"_

"_Don't you dare oh Ginny me. While you were off with that home wrecker, who was probably trying to get you drunk enough to invite her home, I was apparating between here and London looking for you, thinking you'd been murdered on your way home or—"_

"_Don't say that about Alicia! You don't even know her!"  
_

"_Bollocks! Harry, half the women you talk to on a daily basis are trying to get you drunk enough to shag you, and I'll bet you don't even realize it!"_

"_That's absolutely ridiculous, Ginny. Just because you're getting a bit jealous doesn't mean—"_

"_That's damn right! Yes, Harry, I am jealous that I can't get a moment alone with my own boyfriend, and that I have to time share him with God forsaken Alicia Spinnet!"_

"_Oh for Chris'sake, Ginny, leave Alicia out of this…"_

"_WHY SHOULD I?"_

"_BECAUSE SHE SEEMS LIKE A BETTER GIRLFRIEND THAN YOU RIGHT NOW!"_

And that was when Ginny had disapparated from his life without a word, and they never spoke to one another again, at least not until Charlie's funeral a couple years later. Reflecting upon it, Harry cringed as he thought about what they had yelled at one another. Petty, teenage arguments, which had led to Harry saying some pretty thoughtless things. _What an arse I was_, he thought, shaking his head.

With a sigh, Harry took a sharp turn down a narrow alley way, pulled out his wand, and disapparated in a flash, with the keen intent of taking a hot shower once he got there. After all, he did smell faintly of vomit.

**xxxxx**

"Ginny, you're late!"

"Yes, Mr. Blanco, sir. Won't happen again." 

"You're damn straight it won't. Now get me those sketches that Giles was supposed to finish for Fall Fashion Week, and find Sarah…she has my double mocha chai latté and make sure that my luncheon with Donatella is booked for eleven am sharp, yes Miss Weasley?"

"Yes, Mr. Blanco."

The tall, silver fox-figure of Alan Blanco, with square, black framed spectacles and a finely trimmed beard, swept past Ginny and down the hall in an agitated manner.

Ginny Weasley, still feeling flustered from her row with Harry, who had shown up out of absolutely _nowhere_, briskly walked through the wide hallways of Alan Blanco's studio and business headquarters toward her desk. Ginny hadn't mentioned to Harry what she did for a living, and was glad he hadn't asked. If Harry found out, the information would most certainly drain back to her family, and her parents, and Ginny was certain her mother would implode with the shame of it all.

Yes, the truth was that Ginny Weasley, pureblood witch for generations, was working a nine to five muggle job. And truthfully, she enjoyed it thoroughly.

She worked for Alan Blanco, one of the top fashion designers in London, as his personal assistant, and how she had found herself as an assistant was by pure chance, really. Ginny left for New York at the age of twenty-three, and not knowing anyone, she found her way into the Wizarding district of New York by sheer luck (she had overheard some older American women talking about the state of the world, and how it all seemed to balance out after He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was finally snuffed out by that dashing English Potter boy). She had wandered through there until she found an ad for an apartment (as they call flats over there). It turned out that the person who had posted the ad for a roommate was just a young girl herself, and muggle born. Alana Blake became Ginny's best friend for those two years she spent in New York…and it was through Alana that she was introduced to the fashion world.

"_I'll bet you don't know jack shit about this city, hm?"_

"_Well…that would be one way of putting it, I suppose."_

"_When did you get off the boat?"_

"_Er…what?"_

"_Like when did you get into the country? You sound like you landed here yesterday."_

"_Well, as a matter of fact…"_

"_You don't say. Well, drop your bags, and come on, my mom said she wanted to meet my new roommate."_

It had been another two years since she had arrived back in London, and gotten her job as Mr. Blanco's assistant, and she still hadn't been to see her family. "Well, it's not as if I've completely disappeared…I still write," Ginny muttered to herself, throwing her black Louis Vuitton purse onto her desk (this job did come with some perks). Although writing is hardly what you should call a short note twice a year, said a little voice cheerfully from the back of her head, which she quickly snuffed out.

The phone rang briefly, and Ginny picked it up, sitting down onto her swivel chair as she did so. "Mr. Blanco's office, Ginny speaking?"

"Ginny, for goodness sake, you're twenty minutes late! Where have you been?" 

"I had an old acquaintance…drop in on me this morning. Sorry."

"Well, I'm down here finalizing the sketches for Fall Fashion week, and I also have Mr. Blanco's chai latté still, so come here and get it to him before it gets cold."

"Good morning to you too, darling," Ginny replied with a smile. Sarah, Blanco's other assistant, who had only started two months ago, was always very edgy if Ginny wasn't there to back her up. "Alright, Sarah, don't blow a gasket. I'll be down there in a minute, I just have to confirm his luncheon with Donatella first, and check the messages."

Moments later, Ginny was in the spacious, mirrored elevator heading down to the design room in the basement. As the doors opened, Ginny walked into a large, brightly-lit, auditorium sized room, filled with racks of clothing, shelves of shoes, and walls of hand bags on either side of the room. Down the centre was the designing and sewing area; tables with sewing machines, forms with half sewn clothing, pin cushions, rainbows of thread, and bulletin boards with large, full colour sketches were everywhere.

Sarah, a small, thin girl of about twenty-four with a curly bob of blonde curls, rushed up to Ginny, her one-inch white heels clicking nervously as she did so.

"Finally. Alright, here are the sketches that were already confirmed with Mr. Blanco, and these ones here are the ones he's unsure about, and I am going absolutely bonkers here, why does he have so many sketches?"

"He's a designer, Sarah. I imagine he draws a lot."

"Right…anyway, this file is the ones that are his favourites, but he's still unsure about." Sarah piled the files into Ginny. "Oh yes, and here's his chai latté…I really couldn't find him to give it to him this morning!"

"He usually doesn't get here until after us, so I imagine he wasn't here when you were looking for him." Ginny smiled teasingly. "You're doing good, Sarah, don't be so jittery."

Ginny hummed to herself as she rode the elevator up, sketches securely under the left arm, and chai latté in the right. She was happy being busy. It took her mind off other things, like Harry Potter, for instance.

She walked briskly into Mr. Blanco's office, placing the files on the desk in front of him, and the long-awaited chai latté on the silver coaster. Mr. Blanco, a man of about forty, wearing a black dress shirt and pinstripe pants, seemed to be having a heated conversation on his phone. He was refined, but sometimes one of the most impolite people Ginny had ever known. He didn't notice her there until she turned to leave.

"Oh thank God, Ginny, my latté. Just what I needed." He had hung up the phone, and was now leafing through his sketches, and sipping his Starbucks.

"Is there something the matter, sir?"

"Yes, yes, yes…" Having found the sketch he had been looking for, Mr. Blanco stood from his high back office chair, and held the picture of a short gold dress to the bright sun shining through the window. "You know I am to have a few of my fall collection pieces photographed today, yes?" 

"Of course, Mr. Blanco, that's what we've been preparing for all month." Although it was only May, fall started two seasons early in this world.

"Well yes, that phone call was just our venue, that old manor outside of Essex, yes? They've just cancelled on us. Some sort of water vein burst, or something…"

"Oh dear…" He was going to ask her to find another venue. Shit, shit, shit, where was she going to find another medieval manor on such short notice?

"And another thing…" Oh there was another thing. Great. "Right before that, I received a phone call from Stella Wright, the agent, yes? Well she called to say that the bloody model—" And here Blanco kicked his swivel office chair, so that it crashed into the small bookshelf beside his desk, causing a few books to topple off. "—the bloody model can't do the shoot today, because she has some silly food poisoning, or something."

Shit, shit, double shit. Blanco was going to blow up, she could see it. He had a terrible temper, and after two years, she had seen it enough times to know.

"Jesus Christ, Ginny, I need those shots by today. Where in the bloody hell am I going to get another model—" Blanco looked up suddenly, and turned his head to one side, concentrating, as if he were examining something on Ginny's face very closely. He stood up a bit straighter, and then glanced back at the sketch of the gold dress in his hand, and then back at Ginny, and continued to do this for a full thirty seconds.

"Mr. Blanco, sir, can I help you?" she asked, cocking an eye brow. He'd better not be thinking what he looked as if he were thinking…

"Yes…yes indeed…Ginny, darling," Here, he walked up to Ginny, and began circling her like a vulture around fresh meat. "Darling, have you ever considered modeling? You're tall, and lanky, and you've knobby knees…I mean, yes, you walk like a bloody baboon sometimes, but this will just be for stills, so there will be no walking involved at all…"

"Excuse me, sir? But I almost feel as though you're implying that I—"

"Yes, exactly! You're the _exact same size_ as my model. And you fairly look the same as well, it's absolutely perfect!" Alan Blanco placed the sketch on his desk and clapped his hands together in excitement. "I mean, you've got a…different…look to you, but these photos are just for the line up, so it doesn't matter very much how they turn out."

"Thank you…I suppose." There was no getting out of this one…Ginny sighed, resigned, shook her head. "The things I do for you, Mr. Blanco."

"That's why you're a doll, an absolute doll, Ginny my dear." Blanco winked happily at Ginny, then retrieved his chair from the bookcase, and sat back down at his desk, whistling and looking through sketches.

"Sir?"

"Yes, my dear?"

"I do believe there is still the problem of the venue…?"

"Oh, Jesus Christ. Alright, this is what we'll do. There is this old manor just outside of London that I pass by on the way here every day, Avalon Manor, I think it's called. There's this bizarre young man that lives there…I think he's by himself, odd chap, but nonetheless, I believe it will make the perfect replacement venue. I was so struck by the beauty of the building, I talked to the odd fellow myself, and he said that I was welcome to come there for a photo shoot any time I wanted, he couldn't see the harm in it. So I'll just ring Sarah, and tell her to call ahead, and then we can get you fitted, and aha! Crisis averted. Oh, I am good at these things…"

Blanco chuckled to himself, and then continued to sip his latté and look through sketches. Ginny couldn't believe she had just been roped into modeling. _How _in the world had she managed that?

"Miss Weasley, would you hurry yourself up please? Tell Sarah to get on the phone to Avalon Manor, and you get yourself down to Giles so you can be fitted!"

**xxxxx**

Harry had just gotten out of the shower, and was currently walking starkers around his old Victorian manor, but he was no exhibitionist: Harry lived alone. He had seen this house for sale, and had honestly fallen in love with it. There were wrought iron gates, which led up a tree lined winding dirt driveway, and then to the manor itself. It was a large white brick house, with two turrets on either side of the building, both with balconies. The front door, a great, cherry wood piece with a brass, lion's head knocker, was framed by a great white wooden porch that wrapped around the entire front of the house. It was picture perfect, and hardly any of the muggles knew it was there. He didn't bother with any of the wards that most wizarding households bothered with; the anti-muggle wards were hell maintain. It wasn't as if he had many muggles coming up to his house, anyway.

However, that didn't mean he didn't have any random visitors. Once or twice, Harry had had a lost traveler anxiously buzzing the intercom on the gate, looking for a telephone. The manor did seem to be in the middle of no where, although it was just half an hour outside of London.

As he walked through the halls toward the master bedroom, towel around his neck, Harry heard the telephone ring. It didn't often do this, so he was rather surprised. The number of muggles that Harry knew, and kept contact with her limited, and they didn't often call.

He answered on the third ring. "Yes, hullo?"

"Yes, hello, Mr. Harry Potter?"

"Speaking?"

"Yes, sir, this is Sarah Edwards, and I work for Mr. Alan Blanco as his assistant. I believe he said the two of you met last year when his car broke down beside your home?"

"Oh yes, right…" 

"Yes, well, Mr. Blanco wonders if you would be so kind as to allow a photo shoot on the grounds of your home…he says your manor is quite lovely." The Sarah girl let out a little twitter of laughter over the phone.

"A photo shoot?" Harry remembered this Blanco fellow from last year, but he couldn't quite remember what he did for a living. Perhaps he was a photographer? Something with fashion.

"Yes, Mr. Potter. A photo shoot. He would prefer if you made a decision right now, because the photo shoot has to be today. It can't be rescheduled."

"A photo shoot…with models you said?" 

"Yes sir. They're for Mr. Blanco's fall collection."

Right! He had said he was a fashion designer, and Harry had said he was welcome to take pictures of his home if he wanted. At least the models would be pretty.

"Oh yes, of course, come on over."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Potter. The crew will be over shortly, and it will take about an hour." The phone went dead with a click.

"Hm," Harry remarked, placing the phone back onto the receiver. Looking down, he mutter to himself, "I suppose I'd best get some clothing on."

Twenty minutes later, Harry was dressed in muggle clothing; a pair of old blue jeans, and a green ribbed t-shirt that he had had to dig up from the bottom of his closet. It was old, but it would have to do. He didn't think the photographer and models would appreciate a strange man dressed in wizard's robes.

Just as Harry had levitated a kettle over the stove for tea, he heard a great loud knocking coming from the front door. "Ah, that must be them already."

"Hello, Mr. Potter is it? It's so kind of you to have us on such short notice. I'm Juliet White, the photographer."

A woman in her early thirties stood before him. She had raven black short hair that was flipped out, and her lips were a dark shade of crimson. She wore a white blouse that was actually quite see-through (Harry was not a complainer), with a black tight business skirt and black stiletto heels. She was extremely stylish; Harry suddenly felt self conscious in his wrinkled t shirt and faded blue jeans.

"Yes, that would be me. Nice to meet you. Care for some tea before you get to work?"

"Ah, no thank you, perhaps afterward. I hate to leave my poor model in the trailer…I mean, she's not allowed to eat anything in the clothing, and you know, she might dirty it…"

"Juliet! How in the world am I to put this dress on without help?" a voice yelled from the white trailer attached to a black Escalade.

"Just a mo', I'm just talking to our kind benefactor here," Juliet yelled back, and then gave a wink to Harry. She seemed to be flirting with him. Not really his type, but definitely attractive.

"Really, Juliet, I can't be expected to wait around while you flirt all day," the model yelled back from the trailer. "Or do I have to drag you…" The model walked out of the white trailer wearing a gold silk evening gown (it seemed like liquid it clung to her curves so), and her voice trailed off, because Ginny Weasley had caught sight of Harry Potter standing in his doorway.

"Oh bother."

"Ginny? What in the world are you doing in that dress?"

Juliet stood between them on the porch, looking back and forth, trying to figure out what was going on. "You two have already met, I see."

"That would be one way of putting it," Ginny muttered as she turned on her Armani-clad heel and stalked back up to the white trailer.

Harry ran a hand through still damp hair, and sighed loudly. This would be awkward...at best. But what was Ginny doing here? Was she a model? Harry could believe it. Being tall and lanky like Ron, with large brown eyes, and bright fiery copper hair, Ginny gave any super model a run for their money. And Harry didn't need reminding about how long her legs were.

But how in the world had Ginny gotten herself into muggle modeling?

"I suppose I'd best get to work right now. Thanks very much, Mr. Potter."

"No problem, Ms. White."

Harry closed the door, and sighed again. Then he allowed himself to linger on the image that he had glimpsed of Ginny in that gold dress…Cliodna be praised, those curves…

**xxxxx**

In the trailer, Ginny was not having similar reactions.

"Good Lord, Juliet, what am I supposed to do? This is _Harry's_ house, Merlin's beard, and I didn't even know it. Oh good Lord, what will he think of this? What if this gets back to my _mother_—"

"Merlin's beard? Ginny, for God's sake, get a hold of yourself, you're uttering nonsense. You probably won't even see him today. It's not as if he's supervising or anything, so he'll probably just stay inside and we'll just knock on the door to tell him when we're leaving, and give him a happy 'thank you for lending us your house'. We don't even have to go _in_ the house, so you'll be ok—"

Just then, Juliet's cell phone rang. She flipped it open and answered.

"Yes, Juliet White? Yes…Oh, Alan, hello…yes…Oh really…_really_. Right. Er…no, no, nothing. Yes sir. Ok, g'bye."

"Well, what did Mr. Blanco want?"

"He…er…" Juliet scratched the back of her neck and looked down before mumbling out her reply. "He wants pictures inside the house."

Ginny wailed dejectedly. She hadn't seen the man for half a decade, and now suddenly she can't get away from him. It was a bloody curse, she concluded.

"What's the story with you two anyway? Did you date him?"

"Yeah, about ten years ago, I'd say. During school, and just out of it…"

"Ah, really? I can sense a good story!"

"Well, the point is, he buggered up, and had all these girls after him, and then we had a fight and never spoke again."

"Ahh…I can sense a romance story…why don't you two hook up again? It might be fun."

"It also might be the apocalypse, now can we please get to work?"

**xxxxx**

It seemed to Ginny that one picture was as good as any picture, but Juliet insisted upon taking about a hundred for each outfit, for each location. And then there was all the equipment. What a bother. If Ginny had her way, a Polaroid would probably suffice, but she also understood that the pictures had to be very good for the Fall Fashion Week review. Which was why she still didn't understand why Mr. Blanco had made her model instead of a _real_ model. Was he out of his mind?

"Ginny, alright, put your right hand on that tree there, yes, beautiful." Juliet snapped a few more pictures. "Now sort of give me that I'm-going-to-ravage-you-senseless look."

"Juliet!"

"It's a valid expression!"

She took a few more pictures by the trees, and then glanced at her wristwatch. "Er, Gin? Don't you think we should get a few shots inside the house? Blanco seems to think this Harry guy has a beautiful antique home, and that it'd be great for the layout."

Ginny sighed. "Come on, let's get it over with."

A few moments later, Juliet and Ginny stood in front of the large lion's head brass knocker once again. Ginny stood a few paces away from the door, with her back turned away. She really didn't want him to see her in this ridiculous large green dress. Just because she enjoyed fashion didn't mean she liked all of it.

The door opened and Harry froze while he gazed at Ginny. He had never seen anyone so beautiful. The emerald green silk contrasted with her copper red hair, and the off the shoulders, plunging neckline style revealed creamy white skin with a splash of brown freckles.

"Done already?" He caught himself from staring too long, he hoped. Ginny did a good job of avoiding his gaze.

"Ah, er…no. Mr. Blanco, Alan, he said that you have a beautiful home, and wondered if he couldn't have a few shots inside?" Juliet flashed a white smile.

"Oh, of course! Come in, come in." Harry moved back to let them inside. Juliet moved inside, carrying her camera and tripod, and Ginny stalked after her, pointedly staring at the floor.

Harry turned back to them. "The sitting room is the fanciest room I have…I'm afraid the rest of the house is rather normal looking. I didn't do as much work on it." In fact, the rest of the house was not especially normal looking. It was littered with various odd trinkets and dark magic detection objects. The sitting room was probably the only completely muggle room in the entire manor. 'I'd better keep Juliet out of the bathroom, too,' Harry thought to himself briefly. He didn't think she'd appreciate the mirror telling her to fix her hair a bit.

"I'll leave you two to it, them," He passed Ginny and gave her a pointed look, but left it at that. He didn't especially feel like getting into another row like the one they'd had this morning.

Harry went back to the kitchen, where he had been reading the Daily Prophet. An article caught his eye: _'Allegra Garrow: Will she kill again?'_ Scanning quickly over the article, he reaffirmed the information he had already been debriefed with. She had killed an auror, and a friend of Harry's. Orla Quirke had only been a fully qualified auror for a few short years when she had met her end with Allegra Gallows, a witch who had appeared from no where six months ago, claiming to possess a power surpassing even He Who Must Not Be Named himself!

Absolute rubbish, Harry knew. There had already been a few wizards and witches, hoping to rise up as an evil overlord with Voldemort dead. These occasional problems, a random murder by dark magic, or a wizard proclaiming to be the Lord Voldemort incarnate, standing in the middle of Diagon Alley in nothing but skivvies, provided a field day for the _Daily Prophet_ and a large headache for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

However, as an auror, he had to keep up on what information the Ministry was divulging to the public. Voldemort's reign had left its imprint on this generation; Harry knew that for certain. Part of being an auror was capturing the dark wizards still on the loose after Voldemort's second uprising. Yes, it had been more than ten years since his downfall, but they were still out there, he knew.

There had been several people, including the Ministry itself that had tried to dissuade him from becoming an auror. Harry knew that the Ministry would have rather seen the Boy Who Lived become some sort of iconic figure head, a face to reassure the public that they were all safe. And that was exactly what Harry was to the wizarding world. He was a sort of…superhero, he supposed begrudgingly. But truth be known, he would rather just have a job, and a family, and a quiet life. One too many times had been about to take a bath and reporters from various tabloid magazines had followed—

"AHHHHH!"

Harry jumped up; spilling his tea onto the waving witches on the front page of the Daily Prophet (they had recently invented self-spelling wands). As he pulled out his wand and ran into the sitting room, a very strange scene beheld Harry: Ginny, looking very stressed indeed, was kneeling over Juliet White, who was passed out on the plush rug in front of the ornate brick fireplace, where Ron Weasley was standing, spluttering and covered in soot, pointing at his little sister.

"Ginny!" Ron finally managed to spit out. "For Merlin's sake, Ginny." His arm was still raised, pointing at her.

"Ron," Ginny said faintly. She somewhat resembled a squirrel that had been caught rummaging through a trash bin.

Ron was still lost for words, and kept opening and closing his mouth like a fish. Finally, he said weakly, "What're you doing in those muggle clothes?"

Harry quickly cut in, levitating Juliet to the leather divan beside the fireplace. "Did Juliet see you floo through the fireplace, Ron?"

"Er, yeah, bit of a nasty shock for a muggle, I expect, a fire suddenly sprouting up and a person popping out of it."

"She'll need to be memory charmed," Harry said, turning to Ginny who sat heavily upon the couch behind her.

"Yes, yes I know…" Ginny ran her shaking hands through her hair. "What a day this has been."

Harry looked back and forth between Ginny and Ron, who was once again at a loss for words. Finally, Ron spoke. "You look…good, Gin."

"You too, Ron…" White-faced, Ginny opened and closed her mouth several times before saying, "Ron, I—" But whatever Ginny was going to say next was cut off by Juliet moaning and sitting up on the divan beside Ron. She sat for a minute, blinking, and then her eyes widened and she was mid gasp and pointing at Ron again, when Harry muttered _obliviate_ from across the room. A jet of pale blue lightning shot from the end of his wand, and Juliet fell back onto the divan, her eyes half opened.

Juliet sat up again, and shook her head a bit. "Oh my…I think I just dosed off, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did. It's been a long day, Juliet, I think we should head back to develop the prints, don't you think?" Ginny said weakly from the couch.

"Yes, yes, that sounds good…" Juliet looked up at Ron and smiled blankly. "Are you a friend of Harry's?" 

"Er…yes, just popped over for tea, just now."

"Ah…well, we'll leave you to that then. Come on, Ginny; let's get you out of that dress and— OH! Ginny, stand up, stand up, you'll wrinkle the fabric!" Juliet hopped up off the divan and pulled Ginny off the couch, inspecting the dress closely. "Well, seems fine. Anyway, Mr. Potter, Harry, wonderful meeting you, thanks so much for having us over on short notice."

"Pleasure was mine, Ms. White. Ginny," Harry nodded. He wasn't going to stop her. Let her run away.

Ron watched helplessly as Ginny and Juliet White let themselves out the front door, and it clicked shut behind them.

"What in the world is going on, Harry?" Ron looked absolutely bewildered. "Why was she with that muggle girl—who _was _that muggle, anyway? And Ginny was all done up in muggle clothing, why in the world was she in that muggle dress—"

Harry cut him off. "Ron, I have no idea." He shook his head. "Why she's leading a muggle life, I really have no idea."

Ron and Harry looked helplessly at one another, and both were thinking the same thing: Now that they'd found Ginny Weasley again, how would they get her back into their lives?

Outside, Juliet was chattering mindlessly (a side effect of memory charms) as they packed up in the white trailer.

"And it was ever so nice of Harry to have us, don't you think? I don't think he was bizarre at all, Mr. Blanco kept saying he thought he was a bizarre chap, but its not as if he was a complete loner, you saw he had a friend there," Juliet chewed her lip thoughtfully. "You know, that man, Harry's friend, he almost looked as though he could've been your brother!" Juliet giggled happily. "Imagine that, you having a long lost brother, and him being friends with that old flame of yours. That's a story for the Cosmo."

Ginny laughed weakly as she pulled up her black pencil skirt and zipped it up. "Imagine that."

"And did you see what that redheaded bloke was wearing? Those robes must be some sort of forward fashion from Japan or India that we haven't got here yet."

As the black Escalade and white trailer pulled down the long winding dirt driveway and out past the wrought iron front gates, the head of a woman with raven black, straggly hair and sunken eyes suddenly appeared in the sky. To anyone looking directly at the spot where the woman's head was, this would have looked extremely odd. In actual fact, the woman was hovering on a broomstick above Avalon Manor, hidden by an invisibility cloak, the inhabitants completely unaware that they were being watched.

Harry Potter sat down and stared out of his front window, looking troubled. The cracked, red lips of the woman on the broomstick twisted into a cruel smile, and, covering her head so she was invisible once again, she flew away.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

Ahhh a plot bunny hopped into my head, so one day I started typing and this is what came out. I really hope this doesn't turn out boring…' We'll see where this goes. I'm planning for two more chapters, tops, so lets see if we can't get Harry and Ginny to hook up within the next twenty pages. D!

Oh, and I really don't know what to call this little fic…I've been toying with some titles, but nothing really sticks. Suggestions? Until then, I'm sticking with the file name. Which is Drunken Harry. XD

Reviiiiew review review 3 3 3

::EDIT::

Alrighty, so this version has been edited. I've changed a few things here and there, and now that I'm running with an actual plot line, I've added some things. This puppy is really writing itself, I am ever so happy.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry and Ron sat in the den of the Burrow playing a game of wizard's chess, and if they had been ten years younger, it might have looked like any of the summers of their childhoods that they had spent yelling orders at their tiny chess pieces. However, both showed the signs of age as they neared their thirties, and a heavily pregnant Hermione Granger-Weasley sat on a mismatched, cushiony armchair in the corner, legs raised, reading _Motherhood for the Modern Witch_ by Mathilda Mifflegood.

"Bloody hell, what are you doing! I said E-9! Not E-7, E-9!"

"Ron, I think that rook is still a bit sore that you tried to sacrifice it a few moves ago…"

"Well, it was a strategic decision! If you were a bit more observant, you might've noticed that your queen could've beaten my rook down, and then the game would've ended five minutes ago…"

"Yes, well, lucky for me I'm not quite that observant."

Hermione looked up from her book with a bemused smile, which was quickly replaced with a troubled frown. "Have either of you talked to Molly yet?"

"About?" Ron replied, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"You know perfectly well what about!" Hermione snapped.

Harry knew perfectly well indeed. Both had relayed the odd story of coincidence to Hermione who had been troubled for the rest of the week. She insisted that they should tell Molly what they knew of Ginny's whereabouts.

"Look," Ron said, tearing his gaze away from the chess board to look at Hermione, who was shooting him reproachful looks over the top of her book. "The right moment just hasn't come up. And anyway, it's not as if we have all the answers. You know that if I tell mum where Ginny's been, she'll want to know what she's been up to, what she's doing, and why I can count the number of times she's written in the last five years on one hand."

"Well, Harry, have you any idea at all about what's going on with her? You said you spoke with her that morning…" 

"And I also told you it ended in us yelling at each other, and me storming from her flat, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did, but—"

"I really don't know," Harry sighed, as he finally gave up the chess game, and swiped the protesting pieces back into their velvet drawstring bag. "There are so many unanswered questions, and I felt…I knew that she was avoiding answering them. She did all she could before I realized it was her to throw me out of her flat, and I suppose…I don't know why she didn't throw me out in the morning."

"Didn't want you splinching yourself, I suppose. Sounds like you had one hell of a hang over too," Ron said lightly.

"I suppose you want to live to see your unborn child, right?"

"All in good humour, enough with the death threats!"

"Yes, but seriously," Hermione said thoughtfully, finally folding down the corner of her page and closing the large tome. "Harry, what exactly happened between you and Ginny when you broke up?"

Harry looked over at Hermione. "You don't think that she's distanced herself because of me…"

"No, of course not!" She said quickly. "But I do remember…she started acting differently after the break up. She was completely torn up about it, of course, but neither of you saw that, I'm sure." 

"Right, because any time I tried talking to her, she hexed me. I had house elf ears for a month…"

"Which you probably deserved," Ron muttered, busying himself with fighting his angry chess pieces back into their pouch.

"Well, look, alright, here's what happened. It was really a stupid reason for us to get so angry at each other…I suppose I was about nineteen or twenty when it happened…Well, Ginny had been planning a special dinner for the two of us, and I was supposed to meet her at my flat after auror training, but I forgot. And I suppose it had to do with having a drink at the Leaky Cauldron with Alicia Spinnet that night." Harry scratched his head uncomfortably. "Yeah, I was a prat…but I was also scarcely twenty, what do you expect?"

"Well, it doesn't sound as if the proceeding nine years have given you much more wisdom, considering you weren't talking to her ten minutes and managed to get into a row," Hermione said.

"Oh sod off, the both of you. I know I'm still a prat…but I just wish," He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, causing it to stand on end. "I just wish she'd come home. It kills your mum that Ginny's so distant."

"Don't have to tell me that twice. Mum doesn't say anything, but she's upset about it. And it doesn't help that she doesn't know where she's working, either." Ron glanced at the strange nine-handed clock that was visible in the kitchen from where they sat in the den. Nine hands pointed to nine Weasley's. Ginny's, the shortest hand, pointed at 'work'. "Ginny's hand barely moves from work, and she's never mentioned where that is. You'd think she'd been recruited as an Unspeakable, or something."

"But I don't think Unspeakables do photo shoots for muggle photographers," Hermione countered, chewing thoughtfully on her lower lip.

All three reached the same conclusion at the same time.

"You don't think her entire estrangement…" Harry started.

"…Because of her job? D'you think?" Ron finished.

"Why would she go to such an extreme to hide where she's been working?" Hermione said incredulously. "Why, I don't think she should have to disappear and cut herself off just because she's doing…modeling, or whatever it is she's doing."

Ron began to speak, but then faltered, in thought. He seemed to consider the idea.

"You really think so, don't you?" Harry said quietly.

"It's just that…I dunno." Ron shifted uncomfortably. "You know how mum has that cousin who's an accountant? Well she – Doris – it's not as if she's a squib or anything. She just up and decided that she'd rather work with muggles. The whole Prewett side of the family has disowned her…They all say she's brought shame upon the family, and that a proper witch should have a proper, respectable job. Most of the family just pretend she doesn't exist anymore, actually."

"That's terrible," Hermione said, her brow furrowing.

"Well it's the way most old wizarding families think, and mum is included in that state of mind."

This is ridiculous, he thought to himself. Harry stood up quickly, causing the worn, brown arm chair he had been sitting in to creak angrily. He strode across the room quickly and through the kitchen. He glanced fleetingly at the family clock, and watched as the smallest hand moved from 'work' to 'travelling'.

"Harry, where are you going?" Ron and Hermione called from behind him. Ron ran to the kitchen in time to hear "Ginny's" and see the screen door snap shut. He watched as Harry pulled a black cloak over his head and briskly walked across the over grown Weasley yard, and crossed the picket fence. Then he turned on the spot and was gone with a faint _pop._

Ron returned to the den shaking his head, and Hermione had resumed reading her very large book. She looked up, and gave Ron a sympathetic smile. "It'll all turn out alright, I'm sure that everyone will see reason eventually."

Ron sat heavily on the arm of Hermione's chair, wrapping an arm around her and kissing her on top of her bushy-haired head. "I'm just worried about how mum and dad'll take it."

"Well, let's not worry about them right now…I'd be more worried about what sort of ears Harry's going to show up with in an hour."

**xxxxx**

It was seven o'clock, and hunger caused Ginny's stomach to rumble, sounding quite like the roaring engines of cars speeding past her. She was juggling a purse, a briefcase and a white plastic bag containing a little Styrofoam container, take-out Chinese. However, the hunger was far from her mind, and the grumbling engines did nothing to distract her from the pressing matters that were now at hand.

They knew. Merlin's pants, they knew, and her entire family had probably disowned her by now.

But maybe…perhaps they'd let it slide by. Think of it as a fluke. Perhaps she could go on living in seclusion, and she could go on keeping her job and the Weasley family honour.

Ginny trotted up the steps to Havlon Heights and put her key into the lobby door, pulling it open with a small amount of difficulty. Nodding at the security guard in the lobby, she ambled into the lift and pressed the number six.

She sensed something was wrong as soon as she had tried to unlock her front door, 614, and found it open. Flicking a light switch, she cautiously looked around her front hall. The light was on in her kitchen; she had most definitely turned off that light when leaving that morning.

Ginny listened hard, silently pulling her wand out of her purse as she did so. She could feel her heart thudding against her chest, and her mouth had suddenly gone desert dry. She edged forward, slowly, slowly…and then she jumped around the corner into her kitchen shouting '_expelliarmus'_!

Harry's wand flew out of his robe pocket, past Ginny and landing in the hallway, and he fell over backward in his chair with a deafening crash. Ginny was silent with shock for several moments as Harry scrambled up from the floor, righting the chair and his glasses, which had gone askew.

A loud knocking and a muffled voice coming from the floor shook Ginny from her reverie. "_Oi! Would you keep the noise down up there? Sounds like an earthquake!"_

"You've never heard of privacy, I suppose." Ginny said, ignoring her downstairs neighbor. Her voice trembled, and her hands were slightly shaking. She clenched them to fists to cover this up.

"Well, did you want to keep me on the doorstep outside?"

Her nerves suddenly snapped. "Better than scaring me half to death by breaking into my flat and I suppose taking down my wards with you!"

"Well, I have replaced them…"

"Which is like a piece of cake for a great auror like you, I suppose. Well you're welcome to leave anytime now, I've not had my supper yet, and I'd rather like to get to that." Ginny stood aside in the doorway to let him by, but Harry didn't make to move.

Instead, he took a seat again. "You can do whatever you'd like to me, since you're the one with the wand, and I have been deftly disarmed. I'd just like you to hear me out. _For once. _So when you're ready to listen, I'll be right here."

Harry pulled his _Daily Prophet_ toward him again, and continued to read the article he had begun reading _('Cauldron bottoms too thin? Unnecessary Accidents Avoided!')_, before Ginny had knocked him over.

"You've probably already gone and ruined my life even more than it already was, thank you very much, so I have nothing to say to you."

"Great, because I have loads to say to you." Harry folded up his _Daily Prophet_ and turned toward Ginny. "Are you going to listen to me?"

Ginny hit her fist against the wall in a fit of frustration. She was vaguely pleased that it stung a little. "Bloody hell, Harry, would you just leave already? Did it ever occur to you that I like living by myself where I won't be bothered by the lot of you?"

"I don't care that you've got a muggle job!" Harry finally yelled.

Ginny's face tensed, and her freckles stood out vividly as she seemed to pale. She was quiet a moment, before she seemed to deflate. Head down, she pulled a chair out and slowly lowered herself into it. Harry took this as a cue to sit down as well.

"I suppose it was wishful thinking, to think that you'd just let that slide by unnoticed."

"Gin, we were all worried…you disappeared completely for a while, and made it near impossible to track you…" 

"Yes…it did take a good deal of work to make this apartment unplottable. You can never find it if you're looking for it, unless you know where it is, or unless you fall in by accident, apparently."

"Is your job the reason you've gone and distanced yourself from everyone? I've asked around the last few years…you don't even owl any of your old friends, and hardly even Molly, I'm told."

"Well, that's not completely true!" Ginny countered defensively. "My job keeps me very busy…I scarcely have time to catch up with mum, let alone catch up with old acquaintances." Here she looked up at Harry, and he could see the guilt and emotion flooding her delicate features. "But yes…yes I have distanced myself a bit from the wizarding world, haven't I?"

"Ron and Hermione don't care what you do for a living, of course. And Ginny, I'm sure Molly and Arthur could care less what sort of job you have. It's bollocks what you're doing, that's what."

"It's not that simple…" Ginny said quietly. Her face was parchment white, and was she trembling? Yes, her entire body was trembling, as if one tiny push would break her. As if to confirm Harry's observations, a tear quickly dropped from her bowed head.

"Why isn't it?" Harry asked softly. "What is it that you're afraid of?"

Ginny's head snapped up. There was a wild look in her tearful brown eyes, and her chest began to rise and fall rapidly.

"Ginny?"

She didn't appear to hear him. "I can't stay here," was all she gasped to Harry before she began to half run, half stumble out her front door.

"Ginny!"

Grabbing his wand from the hallway floor, Harry bounded after her. He spotted her at the end of the hallway, hysterically pounding the 'down' button of the lift with her finger. "Ginny, stop it! Talk to me, would you?" The door opened at last, and Ginny lurched inside.

With a flick of his holly wand, the doors stayed open, despite Ginny's agitated button mashing of the 'close' button. Harry stepped over the thresh hold of the lift, and as he boarded, the doors closed and they began to descend.

Ginny was backed into the farthest corner, half gasping for air, half a frustrated sobbing. "Why…in Merlin's name…" She paused to calm herself, and just ended up hitting the wall angrily with her fist. "Merlin's name, can't I just be left alone?"

Harry shouted. "What is it that you're so terrified of?"

The lift jerked suddenly to a stop and Ginny toppled over sideways. The electric lights flickered and died.

"ABSOLUTELY WONDERFUL!" Ginny screamed into pitch black silence.

Harry muttered quietly, and suddenly the tip of his wand glowed brilliantly in the dark. Ginny had moved to the opposite corner of where she had been previously, and was now glowering venomously at Harry.

"Look, you're acting rather strangely—"

"YES, because I'm absolutely BONKERS. I'm BARKING MAD. Just lock me up in St. Mungo's—"

"Oh dear, I hate to break up such enticing conversation…I suppose killing you can wait a few."

Ginny froze mid-sentence, her eyes wide in the semi-darkness. Harry whirled around, raising his wand to see where the bodiless voice had emanated from.

Finally, a pin of light appeared in the lift door, and continued to grow until a large circle, about the size of a large hand mirror, appeared in the door, letting light flood the small space. It wasn't a hole in the door; it had just become transparent, like glass. The window stretched out into a brightly lit hallway, what Ginny knew to be the fifth floor.

"_Protego,_" Harry softy murmured, and a blue shield appeared in front of him and Ginny, which shone and then disappeared. "Alright, show yourself. No use hiding."

Ginny stood shakily beside Harry, and both peered through the glass window.

"BOO!" Ginny jumped and shrieked as a woman with straggly raven hair curtaining an angular, sunken face, and cracked red lips jumped in front of the window, pressing her face up to the glass. Her eyes were wide and wild, and almost unseeing; the eyes of someone who had nothing to lose.

Harry's own eyes widened as he recognized the face of the woman before them. "Allegra Garrow," he muttered.

"Yes, of course! Who else could trap the great Harry Potter and his ickle mad girlfriend like wee tiny animals in a glass cage?" She threw her head back, cackling wildly.

Harry raised his wand and shot a jet of red light at the window. It ricocheted back toward Harry who ducked and gasped out "_Finite!_" He looked incredulously back toward the window, which didn't have a scratch upon it.

"Oh, deary me…I suppose I should have warned you. I've cast a barrier around your little zoo cage, and you can't send spells through the walls of the lift. And that might make things a bit difficult when the lift cords snap."

Harry's eyes widened. Ginny seemed to be frozen to the spot beside him, and he wasn't sure if she was breathing or not. Escape…how could they escape?

"Well, I'll leave you two to it then. Hope you have a nice trip to the bottom." The cracked lips twisted upward into a smile as the window began to shrink back into the dark lift door.

"NO!" Ginny screamed beside him. She looked panicked, and her brown eyes were terrified in the wand light.

Harry thought for a split second, and as he bellowed "_Reducto!_" at the trap door on the ceiling, the lift gave a loud, groaning jerk downward, and then the cord snapped.

The lift silently fell into the velvety black darkness. Seconds later, a deafening crash signified that it was now no more than a pile of scrap metal at the bottom of the shaft.

Ginny gripped Harry tightly, trembling violently. Both hung in the dark shaft, suspended by ropes that had been magically tied around their waists and anchored to the ceiling far above. They swung silently, the only sound coming from their ragged breathing. Finally, Harry twisted around so that the rope spun, and holding tight to Ginny, they disappeared with a pop that reverberated off concrete walls.

**xxxxx**

Hello again! Alright, so I'm actually very happy with where this fic is going! I've got a bit more than a plot bunny roaming through my head this time around. When I started out planning this, it was a two chapter short, meant to be smutty as possible. But it's really taken off as its on little story: D

As well, someone suggested in a review that I shorten chapters a bit? I can see the logic in that one. Twenty pages is a bit much at once. But we'll look at that as the chapter one avalanche of information. And now I'm counting this fic as…around five or six chapters? Hahaha ; Bit longer than I initially planned…Anyway:

REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! ♥


	3. Chapter 3

They appeared with another resounding _pop!_ in front of flat number 614. Ginny trembled and then sagged against Harry, and he had to half drag, half carry her through the front door. Once the door slammed shut behind them she collapsed onto the hardwood floor, sobbing and shaking. Harry fell onto his knees in front of her, and gathered her tightly in his arms.

"We're safe…she's gone…we're completely safe…she can't find us here…the wards protect us," Harry murmured reassuringly and smoothed her hair until Ginny quieted down, sniffling and taking deep shuddering breaths.

They stayed like that for several minutes; Harry had no idea how long they sat there. Finally, Ginny quietly said, "I'm so afraid. I'm so terrified of them."

Harry didn't say anything, and waited for her to continue. Her words came out in a rush, punctuated by deep shuddering breaths.

"I don't know when it started…perhaps it was after Charlie was murdered, and they never caught his killer, or maybe it goes back to the battle at Hogwarts, when Fred was died…but I began to develop these…fears.

I'd imagine seeing Fred or Charlie in the streets, or I'd glimpse someone in a hooded black cloak and I'd be terrified, always looking over one shoulder, expecting to be murdered, or my family to be murdered. And I realize it's normal to have fears, after all we've been through. But it began to get irrational…I'd avoid places with lots of wizards, like Diagon Alley…and I had to get out of the Burrow, you know I moved out after Charlie died. But it got so bad I eventually just took off and left the country altogether…so no one could find me.

I thought I'd be safer away from it all, away from the deaths, and the fear. I thought I'd be safe as long as I was far away from—"

Ginny stiffened and pushed away from Harry, watching him with wide guilty eyes. She couldn't cover what had nearly just tumbled from her mouth, and Harry finished the sentence for her.

"Me. You'd be safe as long as you were far away from me."

Ginny looked down at her clenched fists in a silent affirmation, and let the realization wash over Harry. It was a terrible truth; She barely let herself acknowledge this absurd fear, because she knew it was unfair to blame Harry for the hardships that had befallen the Weasley clan. However, death did seem to loom over Harry, its razor-sharp scythe pointed at whoever was closest to him.

"So that's the real reason you pushed away from me all those years ago," he said quietly, mostly to himself. "I'm so sorry I've put you through this, Ginny. You know I'd never—" Harry's voice caught, and he fell silent, not really knowing how to respond to this revelation. She was afraid of the calamity that followed him, the great Harry Potter.

It _was_ his fault after all.

He took a breath and spoke again. "You have good reason to fear me. It's true, disaster does seem to follow me around," he said wryly. "I'm sorry I couldn't…I couldn't save Charlie. I know it was because he was seen with me that he was targeted. I blame myself as much as you probably do—"

Ginny interrupted him. "Harry! You didn't kill Charlie, I don't blame…" But her voice trailed off. She didn't blame him, did she?

Harry smiled sadly. "It's alright if you do." He took a deep breath before continuing. "I almost didn't show up for his funeral, you know? Felt like I shouldn't show my face, I felt so responsible. I was right there, and we didn't even catch the filthy murderer…It was only at Ron's insistence that I went."

Ginny looked down at her hands, which sat limp in her lap. Of course she couldn't blame him. He couldn't control the actions of others. A few more tears fell, and she let out a shaky breath.

"I really don't blame you, really." Ginny fell silent after that, occasionally sniffling. She didn't know how else to convince him, or what to say to him. Yes, he had been the main reason. But she couldn't blame him for what happened. She silently cursed herself, her irrational fears, and her cowardice.

This wasn't about Harry, this was about her. What was wrong with her?

And yet she had pulled him into the guilt with her, practically blamed him for the deaths of her brothers, for all of the danger that had lurked around her family for nearly two decades.

No, this was her battle. Ginny had to overcome this herself. It had nothing to do with Harry, really.

"I'm so sorry," she heard Harry whisper. She looked up, surprised at the vulnerability in his voice. "I'm so sorry that you have to live in this constant fear because of me."

"Harry…"

Suddenly, a loud tapping came from the window inside Ginny's bedroom down the hallway, making both jump. Tensely, Harry pulled his wand out again, and walked to the bedroom, Ginny close behind.

"It's just an owl," Harry said, sighing. He unlatched the window, opening it to let the barn owl in. It relinquished its scroll, snapped its beak happily and then took off out the window again. Harry handed the scroll to Ginny to open.

"It's from the Improper Use of Magic office," Ginny said, quickly scanning the letter. "They know the lift crashed, and that a spell brought it down…since I'm the only witch in the building, they think I did it! They're fining me for unnecessary destruction of muggle property," said incredulously.

"That's the ministry, always jumping to conclusions," Harry said, exasperated. "Don't worry, I'll get this cleared up for you. It's because of Allegra Garrow, so the matter really does fall into my department. I'll floo the ministry now…they need to know Garrow's around here." He moved toward her fireplace, pulling out a small leather pouch full of a green, sparkling floo powder.

"Thank you…" Ginny said tiredly, sitting on the edge of her quilt-covered bed. She rubbed her hands over her face, attempting to rub away her red puffy eyes. Her body wanted sleep, but her mind wouldn't sleep, she knew. There were so many things she needed to consider, so much fear welling up from the deepest caverns of her mind, and Harry, and this Allegra Garrow person now…

"Ginny," Harry said softly, touching her shoulder. He had finished telling an auror in his department what had happened. "You can't stay here tonight. I don't know how much longer it will be before Allegra finds out we weren't in the lift when it crashed. And you know, these wards you put up are shoddy, at best."

Ginny considered this, and then nodded silently. "Where will I stay?" she finally asked.

"Going home would be the safest," Harry suggested, but at the look in her eyes, he retracted his idea.

"I can't go home," Ginny said quietly. "Not just yet, anyway…Is there anywhere else that's safe?"

"Well, my house is pretty secure; it really could double as a bomb shelter." Realizing that Ginny probably had no idea what a bomb was, he hastily went on to say, "You know, it has about a dozen wards and enchantments on every window and door, not to mention the perimeter."

Despite the mention of safe wards and security, Ginny paled at the suggestion. Anxiety welled up in her stomach, and threatened to engulf her completely. Attempting to shrug off fears she knew were irrational, nodded jerkily in agreement, finding that her voice had left her.

She wasn't afraid of Harry She was afraid of the ones who wanted him dead. Ginny continued to reason with herself in her head, telling herself that she would be safe, Harry had wards and security, he would keep her safe, it would be okay.

Despite her efforts to appear unbothered, Harry noticed the rapid rising and falling of her chest, and the way her fingers clutched at the edge of her quilted bed. He knew why, and cursed himself for being so insensitive.

"If you wanted to stay with someone else, I could arrange that," He said quickly. "You'd probably be safer that way, anyway." He stepped away from her unconsciously, putting distance between them. She probably never wanted to see him again, and he persisted to prance into her life.

Without looking up, Ginny said, "No. I'm fine, really." She took a deep breath and stood, looking Harry in the eyes. Harry, who stood a head taller, looked down into her dark amber eyes. When she spoke, it was resolutely, and he knew that something had suddenly changed about her.

"It's stupid for me to give into these irrational thoughts. I can't skip the country every time I get scared." She cracked a feeble smile, but then was quite serious. "I will not let fear rule my life anymore."

Bewildered as to what had caused such a sudden change, Harry smiled searchingly down at the lithe woman in front of him. Nevertheless, it was a happy smile. _Finally_, she was making some sense.

Ginny quickly gathered a small bag of pajamas and toiletries, and then they both stepped cautiously out into the buzzing hallway, which was teeming with tenants muttering angrily, curiously, wonderingly, amongst each other. They must have learned of the destroyed lift, Ginny figured.

"Blimey, it's a good thing no one was in it when the damn cords snapped," a large, overbearing woman in hair curlers and a bright pink bathrobe was saying to her nodding neighbors. She coughed a smoker's cough before saying, "You'd think the landlord would check out the safety of those things—but I'm not surprised, the building being as old as it is."

Harry and Ginny sidestepped the gossipers, and the descended the stairs at the end of the hallway, which also had frantically excited people running up and down them. The entire building had heard the crash, it seemed.

In the lobby stood two policemen, taking notes, along with the shocked security guard and a frazzled looking landlord.

"They were _new_, I tell you, _new_. I had that lift replaced not three years ago, and it passed inspection just last month!" the landlord was insisting, bewildered.

As they walked toward the double glass front doors, Harry and Ginny glimpsed the wreckage. The metal doors stood half wrenched open, and Ginny's felt her stomach turn nauseously as she saw slightly smoking wreckage, unrecognizably the lift they had inhabited a short while ago. Harry grabbed her hand and gently led her through the doors, and around the deserted side of the building, where he grabbed tightly to her arm and turned on his heel.

Their dark surroundings disappeared and squeezed into suffocating blackness before they suddenly popped back into existence in front of familiar wrought iron gates. Harry pushed the gates open, letting Ginny through, and then shut them, pulling out his wand and magically locking them.

"Can't be too careful," Harry muttered, and Ginny followed him up the tree-lined dirt driveway. They were silently guided down the path by the bright milky moonlight, which shone from a full orb in the speckled night sky. Harry allowed his thoughts to wander to Remus Lupin. _He would be in his wolf form at this moment, if he was still alive_, he thought to himself wistfully. His surviving son, and Harry's godson, Teddy Lupin, had recently turned eleven, and would be attending Hogwarts for the first time in September. Perhaps he could take Teddy to Diagon Alley for his supplies…

Harry was pulled from his reverie of thoughts by a hooting owl in the thick of the trees. Ginny shivered beside him, although it was a perfectly warm night, hailing that summer was in a few short weeks.

After a few minutes of a brisk pace, they turned a bend and caught view of the large white brick house up ahead. Arriving at the cherry wood front door, Harry knocked thrice with the large lion's head brass knocker, and then quickly traced an intricate pattern through the air with his wand. The lion's head suddenly glowed blue and _winked_, and then Harry turned the door knob.

"The lion door knocker is a guardian, of sorts. He's enchanted to lock out anyone that he deems untrustworthy. He's a bit like a sneakoscope, in that regard. It took me an hour to convince the lion that George was alright…although he _did_ set fire to my living room with his latest product afterward." Harry cracked a grin as he moved into the hallway of his house, waving his wand to bring electric lamps and light fixtures to life.

Closing the door behind her, Ginny stood in the entrance hall, not quite knowing what to do with herself. She shivered again, and Harry asked, "Are you cold?"

"A bit, yes," she replied, attempting to stifle her chattering teeth. Harry took her bag from her and placed it by the polished wood staircase across the large entrance hall, and then lead her through the French doors to the left, into the sitting room. He sat Ginny upon the divan, the same one that Juliet White had lain, passed out, not even a week earlier. _That all seems a lifetime away now_, she thought to herself.

Throwing a wool blanket around her shoulders, Harry pulled out his wand and lit a fire in the stone fireplace. A moment later the room filled with flickering warmth and light. Ginny closed her eyes tiredly, enjoying the comfort.

"Would you like some tea? Er wait…You didn't eat dinner, did you? Did you want something now?" Harry seemed to be peering closely at Ginny. He was treating her like glass…_He probably thinks I'm terrified being here!_ she realized suddenly.

"You know," Ginny started slowly, choosing her words. "You know, I'm not going to break out into hysterics…again." She grimaced a bit, recalling what had occurred a mere hour before. "I've got some…issues…to deal with, I know, but I'm not going to run about like a chicken with its head chopped off." She smiled reassuringly, and then her stomach rumbled loudly. "Although dinner does sound good."

Dinner, pasta and chicken, was cooked up quickly, and occasionally punctuated with polite conversation. Ginny wondered how she had ended up in this situation, and Harry was secretly thankful that Ginny had not yet found a reason to give him house elf ears.

xxxxx

"What! The Great Unstoppable Ginny Weasley, finally calling in a sick day?"

"Yes, Angela, sometimes the Great Unstoppable One gets sick and overworked as well," Ginny said into the telephone receiver, humoring her co-worker, Alan Blanco's receptionist.

"So you wanted take the rest of the week off, was it?"

"Um, yes, but only if that's alright, and I'm not needed—"

"Darling, Ginny, you haven't taken a sick day, leave of absence or vacations since you've started working here. It's perfectly alright if you take the rest of the week off."

"Well, only if Mr. Blanco approves…"

"Hush. Sarah will take care of him this week, and just call in if you want longer. I swear, Alan has taken you for granted, and I honestly don't know how you've not been sick one day in the last couple years."

"Well, perhaps I've just got a good immune system."

"Perhaps…Well, whatever your health secret is, it's like magic!"

Ginny smiled and laughed humorlessly, agreeing with Angela. In fact, it was like magic. Whenever Ginny had started feeling under the weather, she simply pulled out her old cauldron from potions class all those years ago and whipped up a draught, ensuring that she'd feeling perfectly well by the time she arrived at work.

"Anyway, Ginny, hope you feel better, enjoy your time off…oh, and do yourself a favor, Gin?"

"Yes?"

"Get laid this week." Tinkling laughter filled her ear, and with a click, the phone went silent.

Ginny, shaking her head put down the receiver. She stood in the upstairs hall way of Harry's Victorian manor. The floor was hardwood, but a plush forest green rug spanned the centre length of the long hallway. Intricate patterns in green and gold lined the walls, and old fashioned torch-like light fixtures jutted out every couple metres. The hallway had a very rich feeling, but it wasn't simple showiness of money; this house had the special feeling of love and comfort that only comes from a home that has had hours of painstaking work put into it. _Harry has done well for himself_.

Walking back into her room, one of the many guest rooms, Ginny thought of the night before. After an half an hour of reasoning and relentless bothering, Harry had convinced Ginny to take a leave of absence from work, to clear her head, and perhaps look into getting someone to help her set up stronger wards around her apartment. This, she agreed, was a good and necessary idea.

"_This door is my bedroom…and there's the bathroom. These four doors," Harry had said, gesturing to four cherry wood doors, two on each side of the hallway. "These are spare bedrooms. You can pick whichever you like."_

_Smiling, Ginny pushed open the first door to her right. It was a cozy little room, decorated in pale yellow and marigold flowers, with an alcove window facing the east. A four poster bed with deep royal blue coverings was set in the corner. "This will do perfectly."_

"_Call if you need anything, alright?" Ginny agreed, and bade Harry goodnight. He was about to leave then, when curiosity got the better of him._

"_Ginny…why didn't you just tell me to leave when you first realized it was me? Why did you even talk to me?"_

_With her back turned to him, he didn't see her smile ruefully. "You know," she said, turning toward him. "I'm not really sure myself. But…despite the fear, I missed talking to you, like we used to."_

"_Me too." Harry smiled indecipherably, and then left, closing the door behind him. _

And Ginny had no idea what to make of that strange exchange. For now, she would put it out of her mind.

Glancing at a clock, Ginny saw that it was only still 7:40am, and wondered if Harry was awake yet. A craving for coffee suddenly hit Ginny, and she decided that she would make them both breakfast and rummage around for coffee.

Ginny opened her door as the door across the hall opened, and a cloud of steam drifted happily from the bathroom as Harry emerged from a hot shower, clad in nothing save the towel hung over his shoulder. Ginny froze, saucer-eyed, as Harry cursed and hastily flung himself back into the sanctuary of the bathroom. He reappeared moments later in a navy blue bath robe that looked relatively unused. Ginny still hadn't budged.

"Sorry about that…" Harry muttered, a rosy complexion threatening to take over his face. "I almost forgot you were here…I'm quite used to…to living alone, you see…"

"Quite alright, quite alright…"

Harry hastily moved toward his bedroom, clicking the door shut behind him quickly.

Shaking herself from her daze, Ginny clicked her tongue affirmatively.

_Quite alright indeed!_ she thought to herself as she skipped down the winding wooden stairs to the kitchen.

xxxxx

* * *

Ahahahaha. Every good H/G needs a good wet towel scene. Hooray! XD

Not much to say…except give me more title ideas, because I suck. Hahah. --

I've made corrections to chapters 1 and 2, in case you're interested…biggest change, if you've not read this lately, is the addition of Allegra Garrow to chapter 1. Other than that, an edit here and there. There's likely to be more in the future, as this is a work in progress…anyway, until next time, turrah!

Oh yes, and review, as always. 3


	4. Chapter 4

Both had, by silent consent, agreed to never again bring up the Wet Towel Incident, as it had been filed in Ginny's mind. However, by the time Harry came down for breakfast, his features still bore a mild pink tinge and Ginny's features were still mildly impressed.

But neither said anything, of course.

Ginny and Harry sat at either end of the stained hardwood table, eating a breakfast of sausages and pancakes. For some reason, though, there had been a change; it may have been them sharing the embarrassment of Harry's post-shower nudity, but the conversation came easily, and they were even laughing with each other about it. It was as if years had been erased, and they were both eighteen again, laughing about Crookshanks chasing garden gnomes, and Ron's awkward attempts at showering Hermione with gifts such as daffodils (which she was allergic to) and Chocolate Frogs (which she wasn't all that fond of—she ended up giving to away to Ginny, who loved them).

Perhaps they had become friends again in the last twelve hours. It was a comforting thought to Ginny, but at the same time, daunting. She kept imagining the next time Allegra Garrow would appear, looking for them, and maybe they wouldn't be so lucky the next time…Ginny shook her head. It wouldn't do her well to play into her fears.

After the meal, Harry sat sipping tea and reading the _Daily Prophet_ and Ginny sat sipping her coffee. He looked up, glancing at the wall clock. "Nearly half past eight…I should go in and see what the aurors are doing about Garrow. You know, they dispatched a team to your flat after I floo'd them. They had to secure the area, and make sure that Garrow wasn't still there. She probably wouldn't attack muggles, but you never know…"

Ginny hadn't even considered the fact that Allegra Garrow might go berserk on her neighbors. The idea frightened her that they all had no idea the kind of danger they were in.

"Now I don't know if you want to stay here by yourself, but…" Harry trailed off, looking inquiringly at Ginny. She didn't want to stay by herself at _Harry's_ house of all places, when there was a mad woman after his head, and Garrow knew where Ginny lived. There really wasn't any other place for her to go, except to the ministry with Harry. That idea didn't sit too well with her either.

"Er…I suppose I'll just come with you, then. Seems the safest."

So a quarter of an hour later, the two of them set off down the tree lined road to Harry's front gates. He was dressed in simple grey pinstripe business robes, and Ginny wore a set of dark blue robes that actually belonged to Harry. All of Ginny's robes, she confessed, were old and ill-fitting, so they had spent a few minutes shrinking down some of his.

Once the gate was closed safely behind them, Harry and Ginny both turned on the spot and disappeared, reappearing miles away in the heart of London, down the side of a dirty deserted alleyway. They walked out of the alleyway into the busy street, and Ginny felt self conscious as the passerby's curious stares seared into her back. She hadn't worn wizard's robes in so long…much less in full view of muggles.

"We're nearly there, it's just down this—"

"Ginny!"

She gasped and froze as Sarah, Alan Blanco's other, younger and slightly high-strung assistant, ran up to her. She was laden with various bags, packages, and a tray of Starbucks coffee.

"Ginny, I had no idea you'd be down here today—ooh, beautiful dress—Anyway, I mean, Angela said you were taking a leave, and I assumed you were sick, but why are you—"

A look of dawning suddenly came over Sarah, and Ginny's eyes widened as she glanced from the tiny brunette in front of her, to Harry beside her. "No, no, no Sarah, it isn't what it looks like you know…"

"I overheard Angela telling you to…let loose…but I didn't think you'd get to it before lunch," Sarah said with a wink. "Oh! Great news! I forgot to tell you, Mr. Blanco just announced—"

"Sorry Sarah, got to run."

"But you should know—"

"Really, we're on a tight schedule! See you next week!" Ginny said as she grabbed Harry's wrist and quickly pulled him through the crowd and down a side street. Leaning against the wall of building, she groaned. "Why, of _all_ the people in the world…"

"Well, at least she didn't really mention about our clothes," Harry said, grinning weakly.

"Yes, lucky for us, Sarah's always been more of a brainless chatterbox than someone to be suspicious and ask questions. But, no doubt, we'll be the talk of the office before first coffee break."

"At least today is only Tuesday, and you won't be there to hear any of it until next Monday," Harry said as he continued walking up the emptier side street. He stopped suddenly in front of a telephone booth, and then stepped inside, beckoning for Ginny to follow the suit. It was a bit uncomfortable with both inside a tiny space only meant for one, but they managed to shift until Harry could lift the receiver to talk into it. She watched as Harry slipped a card out of his pocket and into the phone card slot, then, pressing some numbers quickly and familiarly, he began to talk to someone on the phone.

"Morning, Margot, its Harry. Yes. Yes, I have a visitor with me. Ginny Weasley. Alright. Sure thing." He laughed as something inaudible was said to him, and then he replied, "You know I always do," before hanging up. For some reason, the way he spoke to this woman grated upon Ginny's nerves.

"I don't think I've come in this way before…what happens now?" she said, putting her feelings of annoyance out of her mind. Ginny looked around, waiting for the elevator to start sinking, which it did not.

"Ah, well, this is a bit new…it's only been here about six years now, I'd say. See, we have to use an identification card and code to call to the receptionist, and then from there they cast a magical scan for disguises…polyjuice potion, transfigurations, and the like. That's only for the visitor's entrance, though. I'm afraid they're starting to get a bit lax with security around the fireplaces…"

A small thrumming sound suddenly filled the air, and Harry said, "Ah, here we go."

A black hole opened in the floor of the phone booth, and Ginny hovered for a moment before being sucked downward. She was not falling; in fact, the experience felt rather like apparition, and it was over before it had begun. Harry and Ginny landed softly on the stone ground at the end of the large auditorium sized entrance hall, lined by dozens of fireplaces that were glowing emerald green with flames ever few seconds as wizards and witches arrived for another day of work at the ministry.

She took in a shaky breath. _There is _nothing_ to fear. Everyone is checked. Everything is safe._

Taking her mind off other things, Ginny beheld the spurting fountain, and stared up at the larger than life yellow-gold statues in the centre. The largest statue, of a tall, old wizard, with a long beard, half-moon spectacles, and a curious smile, stood in the centre. Surrounding him, a house elf in gleaming gold clothing; a woman dressed in a muggle dress; another man, this one in plainer looking robes, with a kind smile on his slightly ragged, aged looking face; a tall stately looking centaur; and a goblin with a cunning smile.

"Remember the ceremony they had when they put this up?" Harry asked reminiscently as he gazed into the faces of friends long passed—Dumbledore, Dobby, and Remus Lupin.

"Yes, quite an affair to remember." It was, in fact. Witches and wizards from all over the country had come to witness the unveiling of the new statue, after the previous one, a witch and a wizard on two black stone thrones, proclaiming "MAGIC IS MIGHT", had been removed.

"I still can't believe that Hermione agreed to let them make a statue of her though…seemed so uncharacteristic of her." Harry nodded toward the muggle woman in the dress who, indeed, was bushy haired Hermione Granger-Weasley.

"Well, it did take a lot of convincing, remember…and she has sort of become the face of muggle-borns everywhere, hasn't she?"

"True…ah, at least this statue has a better inscription," Harry said as glanced at the engraved words, "EQUALITY IN LIBERTY. EQUALITY IN MAGIC". "I don't think she'd have agreed to a statue in her honor if it said anything else."

Ginny grinned. "And to think, that could have been _you_ in that fountain. They pestered you for weeks about it, didn't they?"

"Months, actually. And really, imagine having to come to work to see a monument to yourself everyday…I wouldn't like that. At least Hermione doesn't work here."

"Yes, at least," Ginny said, smiling. They continued to walk at a brisk pace through the entrance hall, until they reached the reception desk, where a pretty blonde with a large smile greeted Harry familiarly. Ginny stood back, watching them exchange pleasantries and talk briefly about people that she didn't know. Finally, with a wave of a slender, manicured hand, Harry stepped away from the table, bringing a visitor's pass to Ginny.

"Thanks," Ginny said shortly as he handed her the badge. "So where are we off to now?"

"Up to the Magical Law Enforcement department. They probably won't have much to tell us yet…but it doesn't hurt to check. Come on."

Harry set off towards the lifts. Ginny breathed out resolutely, picturing the destroyed remains of the lift in the lobby of her apartment. Suppressing a shudder, she set off after him.

The lift doors opened with a ding, and Ginny gasped and jumped back. A swarm of white birds had zoomed past her head, narrowly missing.

"They're just memos, Ginny," Harry said with a grin, walking into the elevator with another very suspicious looking wizard. Smiling weakly, she clamored after him, giving the stranger inside wide berth.

"Have the sugar quills stopped attacking yet, Keating?" Harry asked the deranged looking wizard with the grisly beard. Ginny thought she saw something crawl through the knotted grey hairs, but it she couldn't be sure. He had a musty look about his robes, and generally looked so ancient he could disintegrate at the gust of a passing wind. However, she was surprised to hear a strong, cheery voice emanate forth from behind the beard.

"Not yet, m'boy, not yet. We've got them locked up down on the seventh level, and since the Gobstones Club creates such a ruckus themselves we're not sure they've even noticed the rattling cage. We've just about given up on them though, so we're going to pass the case along to the department of mysteries."

"Good idea," Harry replied. "No use wasting the time and money of the department trying to deactivate murderous sugar quills. Leave that to the unsolved mysteries pile."

"Ah, here's my stop today. A witch in Bristol caused her house to float a foot off the ground trying to get rid of a particularly nasty breed of spirit, so we have to get the spirit division in on this…Good day to you both!" Keating hobbled out of the opened lift door, and Harry and Ginny were alone once again, save a few paper airplanes.

"He's part of the accidental magic reversal squad, and he's been at it for…forever, I suppose."

Ginny laughed. "By the looks of it, yes."

They continued their descent in silence, and Ginny finally felt that her nerves were calming themselves somewhat. She wasn't completely mad, she reasoned with herself. Just a severe case of the jitters. That was all. Nothing she couldn't handle herself.

"Here we are," Harry said, and with a ding, the metal lift doors clanked open. There was a long stone hallway that looked centuries old, and the torches on either wall lit the entire length with a warm, flickering glow. Harry walked forward down the hallway, and then stopped at the second door on his right, which was large, old and solid oak. Carved in a sign above the door, it read 'AUROR'S HEADQUARTERS'. Harry swung the door open to reveal several witches and wizards running about with stacks of papers, and file folders, and generally looking very busy.

Ginny suddenly stopped short and grabbed Harry's sleeve to stop him as well.

"Harry, is Ron here?"

"Well…yes, he does work here as well…"

"So he's here?"

"Yes." Harry nodded his head apologetically. "Ginny, you're going to have to face your family sooner or later, you know," he said softly.

"I know." Ginny took a deep breath. "This all seems to have happened over night, hasn't it?"

"Well technically, it has happened over night," Harry smiled reassuringly to Ginny and then gave her shoulder a squeeze. "It will work out, alright? Just talk to your family again, and you can take it all a step at a time. They'll understand…your parents are two of the most understanding people I know."

"Yes, they would have to be to take you in all those times you showed up at the Burrow in the dead of night."

"Quiet you. Now let's take care of the situation at hand. I'm going to find the person in charge of the Allegra Garrow case and I'll see what's happening with that. You can sit in my office to wait if you want." Harry pointed to a single cubicle within the sea of cubicles.

"I'll be alright; you go take care of the situation. I'll just wait there, then."

And then Harry disappeared into the river of busy people with busy papers, and busy files, and busy things, and Ginny was left alone in the middle of it.

"Yes, I'll just wait right over there…mind my business…" Ginny said to herself. She passed by several other cubicles where she saw various wanted posters, with dangerous looking, over grown wizards, and pale witches with sunken faces. But when she reached Harry's cubicle, she had to stop and stare at the number of snarling faces that leered at her from every inch of the walls. Harry is completely immersed in his work, quite like I am, Ginny silently realized.

Several of the posters, all with wild and petrifying witches and wizards displayed, had big red crosses put across them. To show they've been apprehended, Ginny guessed. But for all of the convicts that had been caught, there were still several more that did not have red crosses through their poster.

The simple idea of all those dangerous people that had gone for so long without being apprehended terrified Ginny.

Taking a slightly jittery breath, she entered into the confined square, full of the leering posters, and sat at the swivel chair. Her attention was suddenly caught by a small section of moving photos that were not of murderous men attempting to kill people with their gazes.

There were four photos. The first one was of two people smiling and waving, and then happily embracing every once in a while; a tiny woman with auburn hair, and a taller lanky man with messy black hair and glasses. Harry's parents, she knew. She had seen the photo once, years before. The second photo was of the Weasley family. The same one she kept in her front hallway. No wonder he had recognized it, she thought to herself. The third was of Harry with Ron and Hermione at their wedding, when they were twenty. Ginny smiled at the memory. That had been a happy day. Ginny had been the maid of honour, and Harry the best man. That was shortly before we broke up, she suddenly remembered.

And then the last picture caught her attention more than the other three had. It was of the two of them, Harry and Ginny, also taken the night of the wedding. They were dancing together, but it was more like they were hanging off of each other half asleep they had been so tired from the day's excitement. Harry and Ginny continued to drift in lazy circles in the photo, and then he kissed her on the forehead before resting his own head on top of hers.

Her stomach fluttered at the memory. It had been a happy night. But why did Harry have the picture right there in his office? Hadn't Harry had any other girlfriend's since then? That picture had been taken over eight years ago. Ginny frowned. She didn't think…but what if—

"Oy, Harry, I thought you said you weren't—"

Ron and Ginny stopped and stared at one another, and both fish mouthed for words.

"Hullo, Ron."

"What're you doing here?"

"Well I…" And then Ginny furrowed her brow, perplexed. "You haven't heard by now what's happened?"

"With what? Are you alright?"

"Well yes, essentially…but er…about the Allegra Garrow problem, I mean. You haven't heard of that?"

"Of course I have, I've just spent the night trying to track her down after Harry called in the incident last night. The entire office has been on it, after he said…" and it was here that Ron pieced together why Ginny was sitting in Harry's cubicle. "After he said he and another woman had been attacked."

"Yes, we did have a bit of an adventure last night."

"Merlin, Gin." Ron raked a hand through his fiery hair, and giving troubled sigh, sat himself down in a chair beside Ginny. "Merlin. I thought he meant some other woman. He never mentioned it was you. The arse."

"Yes, he can be quite the arse sometimes…"

"You're alright though, aren't you?"

"Yes," Ginny nodded reassuringly. "I'm perfectly fine. It wasn't me she was after anyway. It was Harry."

Ron's mouth tightened. He too knew that trouble seemed to follow Harry around every corner. Although he had resolutely decided at the age of eleven to stick it out by his best mate, come what may. I'm more of a coward than that, Ginny thought to herself.

"So…" Ron searched for something generic to discuss. But not being one for tact, he simply blurted what he had been wondering for the last week.

"What in the hell have you been up to the past five years?"

Sighing, Ginny had known this was coming sooner or later. "Ron…please don't tell mum or dad what I'm working as. You know how they would react."

"Well we haven't said anything to them about you so far, but truthfully I don't even know what you do. Neither does Harry."

"I know, I know…well, right now I'm working as a personal assistant to a high end fashion designer."

"But then what were you doing last week in that muggle get-up at Harry's?"

"Oh, well that was a mix up, of sorts. The model had food poisoning, and our venue cancelled last minute and somehow Mr. Blanco, my boss, is acquainted with Harry, so he gave him a ring and Harry volunteered his house for the photo shoot…"

Ginny looked up and realized Ron was looking at her like she was a four headed dragon. She realized that little to none of what she was talking about made sense to Ron, who had never dabbled in high end muggle fashion.

"You know, it's a good job. I really like it."

"I just hope that bloke is paying you overtime for the amount of work you do there. You know mum checks your hand on the clock from time to time, and honestly, you're always at work."

"There is lots of work to be done," Ginny smiled, thinking of all the times she had been the only one in the office late into the evening, filing papers, and finalizing appointments.

"But how in Merlin's name did you end up in a muggle job? You were working part time at Flourish and Blott's weren't you?"

"Ron, that was about half a decade ago the last time I worked there. That was when I moved away from home, and left for America. I lived in New York City for two years, and that's where I got a job through my friend's mother in fashion."

Ron ran his hand through his hair again, looking bewildered. "Blimey, Gin. Blimey. All this time, and we didn't have a clue what you'd been up to. Half way across the world and back."

Ginny sighed, knowing that there was no way she could keep running away from her former life now. "I'm sorry, Ron. I'm sorry I was a coward and ran away. I just didn't know what was safe anymore, and after Charlie—" Her voice caught, and she fell silent, staring at her pale hands folded in her lap. Her eyes stung and she blinked rapidly as she willed herself not to look like a bloody idiot.

But she looked up suddenly as Ron awkwardly put a large hand on her slightly trembling ones. "I'm just glad you came back, bogey face."

"Ron! You haven't called me that since I was fourteen!"

"I know. I expect that nick name was itching to be used."

"Well don't expect to make calling me that a habit," Ginny said crossly, but she smiled despite herself.

"I hope I'm not disturbing anything…?" Harry said as he cautiously approached his cubicle. Ron quickly snatched his hand back and attempted to look nonchalant as his ears began to flush a rosy pink. How Hermione put up with him, Ginny did not know.

"No, I think we've done talking enough for now," Ginny said with a small smile. But she quickly focused her attention to the matter at hand. "Did they catch Garrow? Have they got any leads at all?"

"Nothing promising. We've got all the best tracking spells on her right now, but she disappeared without a trace after last night." Harry sighed loudly. "The best thing to do right now is keep you away from your apartment, because there's a chance she'll go looking there again. We don't even know how she found me in the first place."

Ron frowned. "There's no way she could have tracked you. You have the best Untraceable charms and Cloaking spells on you."

"I know. The only explanation would be if she's been tracking me for a relatively long time. One can see through a charm's cloaking capabilities if they know where to look and if they've been tracking the same thing for long enough. But breaking a charm like that? That takes years."

"But it's quite plausible that she has been…" Ginny said quietly.

"Bah, don't worry Gin. I'm sure this Garrow woman will turn up drunk in her skivvies in Diagon Alley sooner or later, and then we'll be able to lock her up in Azkaban where she can rot for the next century for Orla's death."

Ginny paled. "She's killed someone?"

Harry nodded solemnly. "Orla Quirke. She was a relatively inexperienced auror, caught off guard and off duty. She was death cursed from behind, so she probably didn't know what hit her."

"Bloody coward murder. Garrow hit her in the back, didn't even let her fight the honourable way," Ron said, anger lining his words.

"Ginny," Harry said quietly, seeing her go paler, so that the brown freckles on her nose stood out dangerously. "Ginny, we're going to catch this woman soon, so you don't have to worry about it for much longer, and then you'll be able to go back to your apartment. Think of it as an…an extended vacation." Harry grinned pleadingly, and Ginny had to offer a half-hearted smile back.

"I'll try to," she said tiredly. Looking up at faces that, until a week ago, were part of a distant past, Ginny wondered how so much could change so fast. But she knew very well that life could be completely changed in a split second. She had endured enough deaths to know that much.

Ginny looked up at the two faces that she had once been so close to, and said, "What do we do now, then?"

Harry scratched his head. "Well, technically I'm not allowed to work this case, because it does directly involve me. And you now, as well. So my official task is to keep you safe out of harm's way."

"…out of harm's way…?"

"Yes…A ministry ordered personal guard for you, technically. Apparently I seemed like the best bloke for the job." Harry shrugged helplessly. "So…as for where you'll live, you're always welcome to stay at my house, unless of course you wanted to go home."

"…go…home?"

"Yes, home," Harry answered slowly. "They've got your apartment sectioned off for investigation, and they said you probably shouldn't chance going back for a while."

This was all happening so fast. Wasn't Ginny just living an independent, fulfilling life last week, where she was working late hours, enjoying sophisticated parties when she had the time (which she had to admit, was rare), and taking advantage of the perks of the fashion industry?

And now she was making the decision of whether to live with her ex boyfriend or estranged family for an indeterminate amount of time? How do things like this happen!

A front heavy and flustered Hermione Granger-Weasley flew through the Auror's Office, a feat at her awkward size and stage of pregnancy. She flung herself at Harry and then at Ron who stood quickly to meet her.

"'Mione, what are you doing here? I thought you had an appointment with the midwitch?" Ron managed to splutter through a bush of Hermione's

"Oh I did, but I came as soon as I could, after you said that Harry had been attacked oh I couldn't just stay home and I know you're fine, Harry, but I couldn't just sit still and—"

It was at this moment that Ginny and Hermione caught sight of one another, and each were in complete shock at the sight of the other.

"You're pregnant?" Ginny exclaimed as Hermione squealed "You're _here_?" in an equally high pitch, and both flew to embrace each other as years disappeared.

Harry and Ron had to step back and observe as the two women chattered excitedly and loudly exclaimed and…really, none of it was very coherent, and neither Harry nor Ron understood much of what was being said.

"Well, since some of us have jobs to get back to, and Harry is off the hook, I volunteer him to take you two out for lunch. His treat," Ron said once the squealing and exclaiming had died down several decibels.

"Thank you Ron, I'd love to," Harry said dryly, with an unaffected grin. "As I'm sure you'd love to clean out my inbox and take care of things around here for me while I'm gone."

"Alright, alright, a wand for a wand, I get it," Ron replied, pulling Hermione close and kissing her goodbye on the forehead. "I have to go see whether they've gotten any more leads in the last hour…so I'll see you all later tonight." Leaning over to Harry, he said more softly, "And be _careful,_ for Merlin's sake."

Ron moved to walk away back down the corridor, but then paused in front of Ginny. She could tell he was searching for the words to communicate to her, but he just sighed softly, gave her a tired smile, and ruffled her hair before walking away.

He was never one for saying what he felt.

But Ginny understood all the same.

* * *

So here we aaare. Chapter 4. About time, ne? This chapter was a bit of a bore, and no one got killed/laid, so I apologize, but it was definitely important in the laying down of plot bunnies.

And anyway, I can't just write in, "And they had sex," because that's just distasteful. You gotta build up to it. Foreplay, if you will.

(there'll be some of that too. Tee hee.)

ANYWAY. Until next time! (next year, more like.)


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